Over the past 18 months or so, I’ve rediscovered the joys of our local library. It didn’t come and find me, but I went and reacquainted myself.
It’s odd how a relationship with the library can go south. You just forget it’s there. Your work gets busy. You do other things with your spare time rather than read. You focus on buying books rather than taking some out and returning them so others can enjoy.
All of those apply to me. Foremost though was just plain forgetting the library was there as a resource. And, I’m not really sure what drove me to reenter its doors with regularity.
A number of years back, my younger brother extolled the virtues of getting movies and audio books from the library. At the time, I picked up on his energy and took out several audio books to keep me occupied while driving long distances in my job. But, there wasn’t much that kept my interest in terms of plots in novels or subject matter for non-fiction books.
I waned in terms of visiting the library. I read a reasonable amount, but would buy those books, as I’ve long been a proponent in financially supporting the work of authors. If we don’t buy books by writers, it is harder for writers to support themselves. It’s that simple. I believe it is tremendously important to support writers, so I purchased them.
The changing point, as best I can put my finger on it, has been having more free time as my work world shrank the past 18 months or so. My career moved away from a path from full-time employment. That freed up more time to read. I’ve taken that opportunity to dig deeper into new genres and read more intently when I sit down and with greater frequency.
That could add up dollar-wise, if I continued to buy books. That led to great library usage, and slowly the vibe insinuated itself into my routine.
There’s something unique, quieting and contemplative entering the doors of the library. It’s always been a “thinking” place for me, whether that was in grade school or college. You are “supposed” to do work there – research, write, take notes, etc. – so you silently go about your business. Of course, someone could easily make you start giggling with fourth grade inanities, but you knew you were supposed to be doing schoolwork, so mostly that’s what you did.
Rediscovering the library visit this past year has reignited some of those long-ago memories and invigorated my reading list. Talking with the librarians, perusing the aisles, spending time at their special book displays all led me down new paths regarding the types of literature or non-fiction to check into next.
You find an author and may read three of her books in a row. You discover the mystery genre and it sticks with you as you shift from one recommended writer to another. You talk to someone who has a recommendation and follow that up to find a new world of interest.
Library nostalgia ignites library passion. You think back, remember, and start regularly visiting again. Your mind expands, you think new things, you find yourself contemplating subjects, ideas, thoughts, concepts, plots and characters you hadn’t considered. You feel good entering the door and know you’ve returned home.
It’s odd how a relationship with the library can go south. You just forget it’s there. Your work gets busy. You do other things with your spare time rather than read. You focus on buying books rather than taking some out and returning them so others can enjoy.
All of those apply to me. Foremost though was just plain forgetting the library was there as a resource. And, I’m not really sure what drove me to reenter its doors with regularity.
A number of years back, my younger brother extolled the virtues of getting movies and audio books from the library. At the time, I picked up on his energy and took out several audio books to keep me occupied while driving long distances in my job. But, there wasn’t much that kept my interest in terms of plots in novels or subject matter for non-fiction books.
I waned in terms of visiting the library. I read a reasonable amount, but would buy those books, as I’ve long been a proponent in financially supporting the work of authors. If we don’t buy books by writers, it is harder for writers to support themselves. It’s that simple. I believe it is tremendously important to support writers, so I purchased them.
The changing point, as best I can put my finger on it, has been having more free time as my work world shrank the past 18 months or so. My career moved away from a path from full-time employment. That freed up more time to read. I’ve taken that opportunity to dig deeper into new genres and read more intently when I sit down and with greater frequency.
That could add up dollar-wise, if I continued to buy books. That led to great library usage, and slowly the vibe insinuated itself into my routine.
There’s something unique, quieting and contemplative entering the doors of the library. It’s always been a “thinking” place for me, whether that was in grade school or college. You are “supposed” to do work there – research, write, take notes, etc. – so you silently go about your business. Of course, someone could easily make you start giggling with fourth grade inanities, but you knew you were supposed to be doing schoolwork, so mostly that’s what you did.
Rediscovering the library visit this past year has reignited some of those long-ago memories and invigorated my reading list. Talking with the librarians, perusing the aisles, spending time at their special book displays all led me down new paths regarding the types of literature or non-fiction to check into next.
You find an author and may read three of her books in a row. You discover the mystery genre and it sticks with you as you shift from one recommended writer to another. You talk to someone who has a recommendation and follow that up to find a new world of interest.
Library nostalgia ignites library passion. You think back, remember, and start regularly visiting again. Your mind expands, you think new things, you find yourself contemplating subjects, ideas, thoughts, concepts, plots and characters you hadn’t considered. You feel good entering the door and know you’ve returned home.